First Impressions
by Phx
Summary: A chance meeting brings together two very different sets of brothers. But although their lives seem worlds apart, are they really very different? Lawrence Awards Fan fiction contest Winner for Best Crossover
1. Chapter 1

**My heart is divided between the Hardy Boys and the Winchester's so you know I had to bring my favorite brothers together - and for anyone who had never read the Hardy Boys or haven't read the newer version... these ain't your granny's boys!**

**Special Notes:**This is my attempt at a Hardy Boys/Supernatural Crossover. Iti s a very short - three chapter story - Let me know what you think. Phoenix

**First Impressions**

**Chapter 1 **

Seventeen-year old Joe Hardy opened his eyes and groaned. _'Great,_' he thought, wincing as even the act of thinking hurt; intensifying the hammering going on inside his head. _'This is really getting old.'_

The last thing the blond-haired teen remembered was staking out a warehouse downtown. Someone had obviously gotten the drop on him and – he looked around and sighed – stashed him somewhere out of the way. Probably to try and force his father, private investigator Fenton Hardy, off the case.

'_Far out of the way,'_ the young sleuth decided after listening carefully for a few minutes but hearing nothing except the sound of wind whistling around the outside of the house. Slight creaking and groaning made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. _'Probably an abandoned house at that.' _He settled on working his wrists against the painful rope that bound them in an attempt to free himself.

His hands being tied behind his back kept him from pulling the dirty rag out of his mouth. Although putrid enough to make the boy gag, it was effective in muffling his yells for help.

'_Come on bro,_' he thought desperately, hating how vulnerable being trussed and held like this made him, '_hurry up and find me.'_

Joe hadn't been working alone; his older brother, eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy, had been watching the opposite end of the building and he knew that as soon as the older boy realized he was missing, Frank would be looking for him.

He just hoped it would be in time. Severely disadvantaged by being held in a dark closet and not having seen or even heard his captors, the young detective had no idea what to expect and he could only wait. And if there was anything the irrepressible teen wasn't, patient was it.

Active and quick acting by nature, bondage of any type was particularly hard on him.

But after about ten minutes, and with his wrists now raw and bloodied, Joe was forced to do just that. Wait.

Leaning against the side of the closet, the teen sighed and closed his eyes. His head still hurt but at least he wasn't feeling sick so he figured he'd gotten off pretty lucky this time – no concussion.

'_It really sucks,'_ the boy thought bitterly, '_when you've had enough head injuries to self-diagnose!_' It was a standing joke amongst his family and friends that Joe had a trouble magnet. If there was going to be any trouble within a mile of him, he'd somehow end up involved. _'Good thing I have Frank around,'_ the boy thought wearily, _'to haul my fat out of the fire… again…'_

The thought that Frank might not be there one day to do so never crossed Joe's mind. Frank would never let anything happen to his brother, and so the seventeen-year-old waited; confident in the certainty that the older boy would be here soon.

Three hours later though, Joe's faith was starting to waver, slightly.

…

The sound of movement in the room outside the closet startled the teen out of his light doze, and his heart pounded hard in his chest. _Was it Frank, moments away from the rescue? The kidnappers back to finish the job? Or worse?_

Eyes wide, his breath held, Joe heard a soft hand on the doorknob. It turned slowly and then the door was swung open and a flashlight beam lit up his face, forcing the boy to squint and turn away.

"Oh man – sorry!" a young man's voice immediately apologized, moving the light off Joe's face. "Are you okay?"

Joe blinked and looked up into the face of the man, surprised to see the tall, lean form crouching down towards him was really a boy no older than himself, with dark hair that seemed just a bit too long, and the most expressive hazel eyes he had ever seen. He smiled at Joe, his handsome young face lit up by a dimple on each cheek. The smile was easygoing and friendly; any apprehension Joe might have felt towards the stranger faded away.

Naturally intuitive when it came to people, Joe had a good feeling about this one.

Nodding, he waited while the other boy tugged on the gag, wincing in sympathy as Joe stretched his jaw and made a 'yuck' face. "Thanks," he finally gasped.

"You're welcome," his rescuer said and then paused, a quizzical look crossing his face, "ah…what are you doing here?" He reached out and grabbed Joe's arm, helping him to his feet.

"Not much really," Joe managed, "just hanging out, you know, waiting to be found." He paused and added, "I'm Joe Hardy, by the way."

The other boy looked at him oddly and repeated, "Waiting to be found? Were you playing some sort of game or something?"

"Uh…something like a game," the blond boy answered vaguely.

"_A game?"_ Joe heard the disapproval in the stranger's voice as he turned around in a silent request to the dark-haired teen to release his hands. The other boy started to work the knots. "Do you always play hide and seek with your hands tied like this—" he paused when Joe flinched as his wrists burned with their release. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Joe tough-guyed as he gingerly rubbed his raw wrists, "and no. Only when the person who hides me does so without my consent. By the way – you never told me your name."

"Oh I'm sorry—" Before the boy could say anything else, another person entered the room. More stocky in build, with a piercing green gaze, the sandy-haired man was older than this boy and did not look happy. The young detective figured him to be in his early twenties. Twenty or maybe twenty-one at most.

"God damnit, Sam," the man said, "When I tell you—" his voice trailed off as he noticed the blond-haired boy for the first time. "Uh – who's your date, bro?"

Sam, as it seemed his name was, turned and flashed a brilliant white smile at Joe. He said casually, "This is Joe. Joe, meet my brother Dean. Try and ignore his personality. I do."

"Ha. Ha. Funny, man, " Dean groused obviously not pleased to find someone else in the house. "What's he doing here?"

Joe's eyes widened as he saw the sawed-off shotgun the man was holding.

"Not much," Sam answered as he held up the rope he'd just taken off Joe, "hanging out in a closet."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise as he appraised the young stranger. "Well, this complicates things."

"Do you guys mind explaining who you are, what you're doing here and why—" Joe's gaze locked on Dean's gun, "why are you carrying a gun?"

Sam grinned at his brother. "Yeah Dean – do you mind explaining that?"

"Why are you being such a bitch?" the older man groused, and then paused and cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment. "Stay right here – I'll be back." As silently as he came, he left, leaving Sam to field Joe's question.

The brown-haired boy offered a sheepish grin; he really sucked at making up alibis – that was Dean's job.

"Well—" Whatever pathetic attempt he was about to make was lost when they heard a loud curse from down the hall followed by the sound of a shotgun going off.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, taking off in the direction of the commotion.

"Hey!" Joe called after him, having no idea what was going on. Then he just shrugged and took off, following the taller boy through the darkened hallways of the abandoned old house. He was right after all. These guys had stashed him somewhere out of the way.

Somewhere very much out of the way.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

Twenty-year old Dean Winchester cursed under his breath as he ducked, narrowly avoiding a hard-cover copy of _Lord of the Rings_ that the poltergeist had flung at him.

"You missed!" he yelled, bringing up the sawed-off shotgun, loaded with rock salt, and firing at the small glowing orb that hung in the air in front of him.

The orb disappeared and he slapped his leg in frustration, unable to tell if he'd actually gotten it and that was why it was gone, or whether or not it had just disappeared. Most likely to go back after his brother – paranormal magnet extraordinaire.

As if on cue, he heard Sam yelling his name and then the younger boy burst into the small library, the blond teenager right behind him. "Are you deaf?" Dean asked his brother, "Or do you just have a special Dean-filter? I thought I told you to stay there!"

"_I thought_ you might need backup," Sam defended, for the moment ignoring the odd look Joe was giving them.

"Did you see where it went?" Dean asked, already moving back towards the hallway. He glanced at the blond stranger and then nodded to his brother. "Get the kid out of here."

"The kid has a name," Joe spoke up, wondering what the heck was going on.

"Nice," Dean grunted, "And if I thought it mattered, I might even bother to remember it." Without another word, he headed back out into the hallway.

Sam shrugged apologetically. "Ignore him. He gets a bit tense on a hunt."

"A hunt?" Joe said slowly, following Sam in the opposite direction than Dean had gone. He assumed they were heading towards the front door. "What exactly is he hunting?"

The dark-haired boy flashed a smile and then offered, "Cockroaches?"

"Cockroaches?" the young Hardy repeated skeptically, "with a shotgun?"

"Sure...and this." Sam held up a small .45 and the other teen jumped back involuntarily not having noticed the weapon previously.

"Would you be offended if I told you I didn't believe you?" Joe asked as the front door came in sight.

"Nope," Sam said pleasantly.

Joe stopped and frowned at his rescuer. "Can I ask you something else, then?"

"You're pretty inquisitive," the other boy noticed and then asked suspiciously, "you're not an undercover cop or something, are you?"

Joe laughed, "No. I'm only seventeen. My brother and I help my dad out sometimes…._He's_ a detective, though."

Sam seemed to consider that for a few moments and then shrugged, "That's cool. What'd you want to know?"

"How old are you?" The kid looked about his age, and Joe was just curious.

"Sixteen," Sam said, shoving the gun into the waist band of his pants and pulling his sweatshirt down over it. He opened the door. "Well, here you go, Joe. Try to stay out of haunted houses in the future – they aren't exactly the best places to play hide and seek," he winked, and was turning to leave when a man's voice and an ominous click froze the boys.

"Nobody make any sudden moves."

Sam slowly turned around and saw two big, beefy men, both holding handguns. He cast a worried glance at Joe. "Let me guess. Your playmates?"

Joe winced, feeling bad. The last thing he had wanted was to get this kid involved. But now… "Yeah. Sorry," he managed, as one of the men gestured for them to come forward. Remembering that Sam was armed, Joe kept a close eye on his new friend, concerned that the kid might try something that would get him killed. But the dark-haired boy didn't do anything except what he was told.


	2. Chapter 2

**First Impressions**

**Chapter 2 **

Dean Winchester was extremely pissed off. Casper was still loose in the house and having much fun at his expense. He had a new lump on the back of his head to prove it. Who knew that an old shoe could hurt so much?

Gingerly rubbing his head, he began to wonder where his brother was. It shouldn't have taken that long to walk the kid out. Though knowing Sam, he was probably outside still talking to the stranger. His younger brother was almost desperate when it came to trying to make friends. Dean didn't really blame him though. Being raised in motels as their father moved them from town to town chasing down ghosts, werewolves and anything else that even breathed of the supernatural was hard on his normally social kid brother. However, right now, in the middle of a job, he needed Sam to focus. There would be plenty of time for social hour later.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, hearing his voice echo through the house. This particular poltergeist was more a nuisance than a danger – which is why experienced demon hunter John Winchester let his sons handle the job while he stalked a shape shifter upstate – so Dean wasn't too worried that it might have gotten the jump on his brother…yet. "Yo! Sammy!"

Nothing.

His concern rising a notch, Dean moved down the hallway and towards the front door. He checked out each of the rooms along the way, just in case his brother got waylaid by the décor or something. That would be so Sammy.

Frowning when he reached the door with no sign of his brother or the other kid, Dean opened it and stepped out onto the front porch. But still no Sam. Now he was starting to get worried…

"Sammy?" he yelled again and then whipped around, his shotgun up and ready when he heard a sound to the side of the house. A shadow froze and Dean saw a pair of hands raised in the gloom.

"Whoa! Easy," a voice called out and Dean squinted to try and make out the newcomer's face.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Dean demanded, not lowering the gun.

The person stepped out of the shadows. It was a young dark-haired man with piercing dark eyes, probably a year or two younger than Dean himself. The demon hunter cursed as he exhaled loudly and lowered the gun "Damnit. Just what I need…another kid."

"My name's Frank Hardy, and I'm looking for my brother."

"Well what do you know, sport," Dean smart-assed, "so am I." He paused as he sized up Frank for a moment before adding, "Your brother. Is he about my height, blond hair – likes to hang out in closets?"

Frank rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Sounds like him. Joe."

"Joe. Yeah, that was his name." Dean turned around to go back inside the house.

"Wait," Frank called out, hurrying to catch up. He didn't know who this young man was and definitely didn't like how callously he carried that shotgun, but he still followed. If this guy knew anything about Joe – "What do you mean 'was'? Do you know where my brother is?"

"Not anymore," Dean admitted, not bothering to turn around as he marched towards the small room where Sam had found Joe, "But wherever he is, my kid brother's probably with him."

"I don't—"

Dean cut him off, exhaling loudly. He indicated the closet. "Sam found him tied up in there. He walked your brother out of the house and now I can't find either of them."

"Shit," Frank muttered, bending down and picking up the bloodied ropes that had held his brother. He straightened up.

"Come on," Dean offered, moving out of the room again. "They couldn't have gone far – you got one of those fancy coffee houses around— Look out!" Suddenly Dean shoved Frank to the floor as something heavy passed over their heads, crashing into the wall behind them.

"What the—" the older Hardy started to ask, but Dean was already rolling off him, clambering to his feet.

"Move!" Dean yelled, grabbing Frank's arm and hauling him up before shoving the young detective in the direction of the door. "Go! Go! Go!"

Frank's heart was racing as something else was flung at them. He ducked as he ran down the darkened hallway, the stranger right behind him. He'd just raced past an open door, when Dean grabbed his arm again, yanking him into the room.

"What…was…that?" the dark-haired Hardy panted as he watched the stranger checking his gun.

"Poltergeist," Dean said, satisfied with his buckshot. He looked at Frank and flashed a charming smile. "Name's Dean Winchester by the way."

Frank just stared at him for a moment and then scowled.

"What?" Dean asked.

"A ghost?" Frank asked skeptically.

"Ah no. Not technically. This one is a poltergeist. They tend to be a lot more pissed off than ghosts," Dean explained as he patted down his coat and then pulled out a large canister of salt.

Frank wondered briefly exactly where he had concealed that but decided there were just some things he did not want to know.

"I don't believe in crap like that," the young detective said.

Dean raised his eyebrows and then grinned. "Me either." He moved towards Frank and started to sprinkle something on the floor around them.

"What are you doing?" Frank demanded, backing up slightly as he decided this young man was nuts.

"Salt," Dean explained, making a perfect circle on the floor and then stepping inside it. "It repels spirits and other stuff you don't believe in."

Frank snorted. "I don't have time for this. I've got to find Joe." He started to move towards the door.

"Hey," the other man's voice stopped him. "You don't have to believe in this, but you still can't be stupid, either. You want to find your brother and I _need_ to find mine – okay, we can do that, but we got to take care of this first. Now get back in this circle and let me do my job."

"Your job?" Frank was incredulous. "Exactly what is your job?"

"Me, my Dad and my brother are hunters," Dean explained proudly, "we hunt down and kill all those things you don't believe in."

"You can't be serious?" The young detective shook his head but then sighed and slowly nodded his head when he saw that Dean was very serious. "Fine. But can you get a move on? The longer we wait, the harder it's going to be to find them."

Dean nodded, pulled out a ragged old book and started to read in Latin. Frank frowned – what was this? An exorcism or something?

The sound of wind rushing through a tunnel made the skeptical detective step back into the protective circle of salt as all the doors suddenly burst open. His heart pounded as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something was here…

Dean continued to read, seeming oblivious to the commotion around them as things started to fly from the shelves, doors slammed, chairs got overturned.

Finally, with a loud shout, everything just stopped. Items in mid-air dropped harmlessly to the floor, and the wind was gone as quickly as it came.

Frank turned to look at Dean.

Dean gave him a goofy grin and shrugged as he closed the book. He winked. "Just another day in the incredible life of Dean." His smile faded, his face becoming serious again. "Okay then, let's go get the girls."

When the younger boy just scowled at him, Dean rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, Frankie. I'm talking about Sam and Joe."

"It's Frank," the dark-haired man said curtly as he led the way out of the room. Behind him, Dean grimaced and shook his head.

"Someone just shoot me now….He's Sam."

"You're crazy," the other boy commented as he stepped out of the house and surveyed the area with keen eyes. He pulled out a small flashlight.

"Can't prove it," Dean smart-assed, watching Frank with an odd look on his face as the young detective shone the light over the ground and started to walk away from the house. "Exactly what are you doing?"

"My job." Frank flashed him a knowing smile.

"And exactly what is your job?" Dean ignored the déjà vu.

"Me, my Dad and my brother are detectives," Frank explained, "we're some of the good guys."

Dean glared at him, opened his mouth to retort, but then stopped as the sound of a gun shot sent him and Frank hurtling into the darkened night.


	3. Chapter 3

This was just a brief introduction of the two sets of brothers across the fandoms. I am working on a much longer story to be posted at a later time. I hope you enjoyed it! Phoenix

**First Impressions**

**Chapter 3**

The two men prodded Joe and Sam to keep walking. Joe had been expecting the men to toss them in the back of a trunk or something, but that wasn't the case. No, these guys told the boys to walk and had them head into the undergrowth surrounding the old house.

Joe had no idea where he was, but as the sound of crashing water reached his ears, he suddenly got a very good idea…and a sick feeling about what was going to happen.

"This house overlooks the bay," Sam said quietly as they walked. The two men behind them grunted something about keeping moving, but let them talk.

"Mmmhmm," Joe realized the younger boy had a definite advantage over him, as Sam and his brother had gone to the house of their own free will. So they knew exactly where they were. He listened to see if Sam had come to the same conclusion he had.

"You don't think—" Sam paused and the blond teen was a bit surprised to hear a thread of fear in the kid's voice, but then realized that he probably didn't have much experience with this kind of thing. Unfortunately for Joe…he did. "I mean – they wouldn't…"

"Sam," Joe said quietly. He hated himself for having to confirm the kid's fear but he needed the other boy to understand the seriousness of their situation. "We are expendable. And now that we've seen their faces—" he paused and admitted, "I think they're planning on having one, if not both of us, take a nice long, permanent swim." Seeing the younger boy's face pale in the moonlight, he cracked a smile. "I don't suppose you're wearing your scuba long johns tonight?"

"You sound like my brother," Sam said after a moment. They walked for another minute or two in silence and then he lowered his voice, "I need a distraction."

Joe frowned, "What?"

"A distraction," Sam repeated, "I can't get my – _you know what_ – with them so close. I'm not that fast."

"Sam," the blond boy hissed, "you can't be serious?" Joe just wasn't sure the boy had it in him to do what he might need to do, and if he didn't, it would just make things worse for them both.

"It's loaded with rock salt," the dark-haired boy whispered, "it won't kill' em but it sure as hell will sting."

'_Rock salt?'_ Joe stared at him incredulously but as the edge of the cliff came in view, he knew he didn't have much time for other considerations. He'd just have to trust the kid.

Suddenly Joe stumbled, grabbing his leg. Instantly one of their captors moved towards him, affording Sam the distraction he needed. With a quick movement, Sam pulled his gun out of the small of his back, whirled around the pointed it at the man closest to him. Immediately the other goon froze as Joe scrambled to stand next to Sam.

The young hunter held the gun steady. "Don't move." he told them and then said to Joe. "Now what?"

Before Joe could answer, one of the men lunged at Sam, grabbing at the gun. Sam's finger tightened on the trigger and it went off, knocking the man back about fifteen feet.

The second man made a grab for Joe but the young detective met him with a deadly right hook, clipping the man's chin and sending him backwards towards his friend.

Before either man could get up, a flurry of footsteps heralded Dean and Frank as the older boys burst through the bushes.

They stood stunned for a moment, taking in the scene and then moved towards their respective siblings.

"You okay?" Frank demanded, checking his brother over before pulling him into a quick hug. "You had me worried."

"I'm fine," Joe told him, letting out a heavy sigh and relaxing against his brother briefly before pulling away.

Frank saw the ragged wrists and grabbed one of them gently. He cocked an eyebrow and challenged his brother's assessment. Joe gave him a weary grin. "Okay. Mostly fine."

…

Sam still had the gun aimed at the two men, his eyes wide in his pale face.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was strangely soft as he slowly approached his brother. He knew the kid was in shock. This was not the first time Sam had fired a gun, but it _was_ the first time he had ever shot something not supernatural. Something human...and he could see the hand holding the gun starting to shake. "Easy kid – give me the gun, okay?"

Behind them, he felt Frank and Joe's eyes on them, but blocked them out.

"Sam. Come on, bitch, it's time to go home now." He reached out tentatively to take the gun. Sam still didn't acknowledge him.

When his fingers brushed against the hot steel, Sam suddenly looked at him, seeing him for the first time. "D-Dean?" he stammered, and his older brother's face broke into a wide smile.

"Yeah, smart-ass. It's me." He paused, his green eyes concerned. "You okay?"

"I – I didn't have a choice." Sam turned towards the two men again. They were sitting on the cold ground, neither stupid enough to make any moves as they warily eyed the shotgun the young man was holding. "I had to—"

"It's okay, Sam – you're okay and it's okay." He took the gun from his brother, quickly pocketed it and then pressed a finger against his brother's chin, forcing the younger boy to look at him. "Sammy?"

"It's – it's Sam," a shaky voice corrected and Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled as he looped and arm around his brother's shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze.

"It's dumbass, if you ask me."

"J-jerk." The younger boy managed a tight smile but it was enough to assure his brother that the kid would be okay. And then Sam paused and scowled. "What took you so long, anyway?"

Dean grinned and then glanced at Frank. He gave the dark-haired detective a little wink. "We had some house cleaning to do first."

Frank shook his head but had to grin back. There was just something indefinable about Dean Winchester. But whatever it was, the young detective decided it was okay.

…

Ten minutes later the Hardy brothers watched as the 1967 midnight-black Chevy Impala pulled away from the house.

"So what'd you think?" Frank asked as they watched the disappearing taillights of the Winchesters' car.

"I liked them, " Joe admitted, leaning heavily against the side of their own black van. "They're good brothers."

"Yeah," Frank agreed after a moment, "I think they are too." He glanced at his younger brother, "Well come on, kiddo, it's late and we need to get home."

"What about them?" Joe tilted his head to the two men secured on the front post. Dean knew how to tie a mean knot.

Frank groaned and pulled out his cell phone. "How in the world could I have forgotten about _them_?"

"I dunno," Joe deadpanned, "must be old age or something."

His brother snorted but didn't say anything. Sometimes there was more power in what wasn't said.

"What?" Joe looked at him. "No comeback?"

Frank smiled sweetly and then spoke into the phone.

ooooooOOOOOOoooooo

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked as they pulled away from the house and the Hardys.

"Yeah," the younger Winchester sighed and then glanced at his brother. "Did you get the ghost?"

"Poltergeist," Dean corrected and grinned, "and yup. You were bang on about that exorcism. Fried that little sucker right on the spot."

"Good," Sam leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. "It's nice to know I'm good for something."

"Hey," came an indignant reply, "You're good for lots of things—"

Sam cracked and eye and waited for it. His brother did not disappoint.

"You're good at screaming like a girl…getting me in trouble…holding stuff… not listening to your elders—"

Closing his eyes, Sam was asleep before Dean ran out of his list. Hearing his brother's gentle breathing, the older boy cast a quick glance over and smiled. As his hand reached to turn the radio on low, his eyes glazed over in a rare moment of affection. "And you're the best at just being my brother…"

Sam shifted in his sleep and a smile twitched his lips.

There was just something about brothers.

The End


End file.
